


you, me, us (this)

by historiologies



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, magic school au, set in the harry potter universe but in korea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: Seven Christmases at Seoraksan with Soonyoung and Wonwoo.(The seventh chapter is now up!)





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newvision](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newvision/gifts).



> HELLO RECIPIENT. I'm so sorry this is late. Really. Everything just got away from me. Still! I hope you enjoy this bastardized version of Hogwarts!AU, complete with strange houses and magical traditions but not quite! I tried to jam in the hot chocolate everywhere I could! I also owe you an epilogue for the seventh year -- I hope you like steamy things!
> 
> To everyone else not my recipient, I hope you enjoy this too!
> 
> EDIT: Now with a seventh chapter!

It’s his first Christmas at Seoraksan, and Wonwoo is alone.

Truthfully, he didn’t expect to be. He’d been looking forward to going home to Changwon and seeing his parents and telling them excitedly about his first few months at his new school. That was his sentiment, until a few days ago when he received a letter from his parents (which was sent via MagMail — Samshin and the rest of the school faculty frowned upon modern conveniences like mobile phones and only really foolhardy students like Wen Junhui from Kyeryong snuck them in anyway, although how he was managing to keep it charged, Wonwoo will probably never know). After admiring the pictures of the vases they’d painstakingly reconstructed that his parents stuck in the letter, his mood plummeted immediately upon their mention of a dig for more ancient Silla artifacts in Gyeongju that came up all of a sudden. In the letter, they apologized regretfully before cancelling his trip home for Christmas. 

He had stared at the letter, feeling desolate and small until the magpie that delivered the letter pecked at his fingers for the dry plum he hadn’t given him yet as payment.

That was three days ago. He huddles under the covers, reluctant to get up. It’s almost noon. Although by nature Imugi didn’t mind a little solitude, Wonwoo admits to have gotten used to Jihoon’s gruff morning voice telling him to hurry up and get ready so that they could still grab the last of the kimchi-fried rice before their Talismans and Artifacts class.

The First Year dorm room is silent now; there were only four of them in Imugi in his year, and Jihoon, Chanhyuk and Ten had all boarded the trains home that morning. Wonwoo thinks he’s missed breakfast by now, and he would have idled past lunch still curled up in the same fetal position he had taken after his roommates bid him farewell had his stomach not violently protested. Groaning, he sits up in his bed and looks for his jeans. He still hasn’t quite mastered the spells that some of the upperclassmen used to sneak food out, and he’d rather not anger the one-eyed dokkaebis running the kitchens lest they stop making the hotteok he loves.

He pads down the steps from the dormitory into the tower’s common receiving room, and continues on down the spiral stone steps until he reaches the carpeted pathway leading to the door. He makes his way down the paved path, smooth and clear of snow thanks to the school’s enchantments, to the main school building, although the word ‘building’ did a disservice to the large silver and gray tenement made of stone and marble. Wonwoo looks up and squints, spotting even with his terrible eyesight the stone pillars painted gold on either side of heavy wooden doors that marked the entrance, and the black and silver-lined roof that seemed to stretch into the sky and become one with the stars in the darkest of evenings. It didn’t officially have a name but everyone, from the students to the faculty to the stone guardians who guarded the borders of the school, called it the Makwan, which meant “a place of learning for magic.”

And what a place it was.

(On the day that the enchanted train pulled into the school station, miles and miles away from the entrance of the natural park known to visitors and tourists all over the world, eleven-year-old Wonwoo saw the mountains of Seoraksan — grand, ancient, and mystical — and felt his chest tighten. He was finally here, at a place that promised him a new beginning, that promised him he could be anything he wanted, and everything he wasn’t.)

He hums, lost in thought, and lets the sleeves of his durumagi (navy blue with a sage green lining, to match the colors of his House) fall past his wrists and knuckles — even though it had spells woven into the fabric to keep out the worst of the South Korean winter, Wonwoo still finds comfort in the way his fingers catch at the hems of them. His wand, ten inches of Korean red pine with a kumiho hair at the core, is tucked neatly into its holster at his side, within easy reach.

Seoraksan in the winter was just as beautiful as it was in the fall. To Wonwoo, the stretches of white seemed almost endless, intent on blanketing the school grounds for all eternity. When he peers past the tiny mounds of snow on either side of the Makwan, however, he can see a handful of upperclassmen who had also elected to stay at the school instead of going home having a snowball fight in the glen by the road going to the Quidditch pitch. 

Sandeul, a Fifth Year Imugi and one of the combatants of snow warfare, sees him from a distance and gives him a hearty wave. They’ve only really had a few conversations in the common room, so Wonwoo is pleasantly surprised that he even remembers him. He stretches his hand out to wave back and wonders if he could perhaps find a new friend or two during the holiday break while Jihoon and the others weren’t around.

_It would be nice to have someone to talk to…_

It is as he is thinking this when a snowball, cold and icy and wet, hits the back of his head. 

Wonwoo lets out a gurgled noise of surprise and stumbles from the force of it, falling to his knees. He shivers as the ice slips underneath his collar and carves a chilly path down his spine. 

Apparently, there is only so much an enchanted jacket can keep out when it comes to snow directly crawling down one’s back.

“Oh shoot!”

A voice from behind him pipes up behind him; before Wonwoo can register the sentiment, the owner of the voice materializes in front of him, and the constant white flooding his vision is relieved by a deep red. 

Haechi red. 

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo, embarrassed and deeply uncomfortable, screws up his face, and is about to retort “Am I _okay_?” incredulously when his assailant whips out his wand and mutters a cleaning spell under his breath. Instantly, the snow that had caked his neck and back disappeared, and only the feeling of it rolling under his collar remained.

“I’m so sorry about that.” A hand is thrust into his line of sight now, and Wonwoo takes it, before he finally looks up past the crimson durumagi with the royal blue lining to see his attacker. “I was trying to do a rotating spell on the snowball and it kind of got away from me.”

“It-I-you’re Kwon Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says, slightly perturbed. He knew who he was. Probably everyone in their year did. What was he doing here, levitating snowballs instead of on his way home on a train?

Soonyoung tilts his head as Wonwoo dusts off the rest of the snow that had landed on his shoulder. His black hair is shiny and longer than Wonwoo remembered it from his first day at Seoraksan, reminding him that time’s passed so quickly since he got there.

“You know who I am?”

“Wonwoo!” He hears Sandeul call out to him from the glen, and he colors at the thought of all those Fifth Years seeing him fall over himself. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” he calls back, waving. To add to his mortification, his voice cracks as he yells. 

Wonwoo wants the earth to swallow him alive, perhaps. For the first time since this morning, he’s glad Jihoon and the others aren’t here to witness how he’s embarrassing himself in front of the newly designated Seoraksan wonder boy.

He breathes a sigh, before he remembers the question lingering in the air. “Yes. We’re in the same year, I saw you during the Invitations.” 

A dusting of red sprinkles across Soonyoung’s cheeks, and they puff out adorably. Wonwoo’s finger itches to poke at them. “Oh. I, I didn’t realize.”

“Pretty hard to forget the first boy invited to join all three Seoraksan Houses in twenty odd years.”

(Wonwoo remembers it quite clearly like it was yesterday, because he had been the one on the stone dais accepting the Invitation to join Imugi just before a boy with a wide smile that pushed his cheeks into soft circles came up to sit on the chair he had just vacated at the foot of the Hall of Worthies. There was a quiet hush for a handful of moments, before the floors of all three Houses had lit up almost immediately, the sounds of a rooster crowing, a serpent hissing and a lion roaring filling the wide spaces of the room.

Most of the faculty had gasped, and Teacher Choi had exclaimed loudly. Only Teacher Jang and Samshin had remained nonplussed, the latter nodding kindly at the boy as he looked around, surprised and intimidated at the parade of primary colors lighting up the room, accompanied by the cacophany earlier mentioned.

“Master Kwon, I believe it is, as they say, your choice.”

Wonwoo, sitting at the long table with the blue floor, remembered just how strongly the serpent of his House lobbied for the Kwon boy’s choice, remembered it like he himself was holding his hand out for the Kwon boy to take. He later found out that every Invitation extended to a new student felt like that, but to have felt that intensity for the first time… later, when he told his mother about it, he described it to her as ‘extraordinary.’ She didn’t understand quite what he meant by that, but accepted it all the same.)

Soonyoung coughs at this, clearly embarrassed at the impression he made. “When you put it _that_ way…” He scratches his head.

Wonwoo shrugs, a tinge wryly. “I don’t think there’s any other way to put it.”

“Let me make it up to you. Can I walk with you?” Soonyoung reaches out, pats Wonwoo on the shoulder. “Were you going into the Makwan? You’re probably about to have lunch. Let’s have it together.”

“Um,” Wonwoo hesitates. “Aren’t you with anyone?” He starts again on the path he had been going down on before he was interrupted by the errant snowball.

“Nope, just me,” Soonyoung supplies, happily falling into step with Wonwoo while they made their way towards the grand stone hall. “Changkyun and Changgu went home this morning, but my sister Minkyung — she went here too, graduated last year — decided to treat my parents to a cruise and I didn’t want to watch them get all romantic on me while I wandered around a boat not being able to do magic.”

Wonwoo glances at him as he stretches casually, comfortably, as if he and Wonwoo have been friends for years now instead of acquaintances for mere minutes. “Besides, I like it here.”

That sentiment, Wonwoo can understand.

They turn right upon entering the Makwan and arrive at the Hall of Worthies, a large room of three distinct areas made up of three long tables where all meals and announcements are given to students, and despite most of the school being empty due to the holidays, there are still plenty of students from each year level hanging around, for some reason or another. In fact, most of the Seventh Years have chosen to stay over to study for the magical equivalent of the Suneung tests held in February. Even a few teachers occupy the faculty table at the head of the room — jolly Teacher Kang of the Mythical Creatures elective and erudite Teacher Lee of their Chants and Chimes class converse cordially while Teacher Jang, quiet and refined as always, sits in quiet reflection next to them.

“Let’s sit at your table,” Soonyoung volunteers, before steering Wonwoo towards the mahogany table on the right side of the hall. It’s the emptiest area (when Soonyoung looks at Wonwoo to ask him why, Wonwoo explains that “they’re probably already in the library” — Soonyoung nods), and Soonyoung sits down on the bench next to Wonwoo. The bamboo tablerunner rattles and starts to move when it realizes that there are people to feed and dishes start to magically appear on top of them.

“Oh, galbi jjim! Perfect for today’s weather,” Soonyoung marvels, enthused at the array of banchan and bowls that plop in front of them when the tablerunner finally stops shaking. He takes the silver chopsticks next to his plate and opens up the small cup of rice that seems to never empty. “Let’s eat, Wonwoo! It _is_ Wonwoo, right?”

Wonwoo is still a little confused about all of this, but he registers Soonyoung’s question and nods slowly.

Soonyoung beams at him, and Wonwoo refuses to admit to himself that it makes a part of him want to smile back. “Good. I remembered it correctly. Sorry, I don’t know many people outside my House yet.”

He starts wolfing down his food. Blinking, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses. “That’s-that’s okay. None of us have any classes together anyway, so… none of us really know each other.”

“Isn’t that weird?” Soonyoung wonders. He pauses, perches his chin on his palm. Wonwoo’s eyes widen at his elbows on the table. “You would think that the First Years get classes together but no. Joint classes only start in Year Two. Although I do know Wen Junhui from Kyeryong.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo pipes in, excited to contribute to the conversation. “Have you ever asked him how he keeps his cellphone charged?”

“I keep meaning to, but I haven’t!” Soonyoung tells Wonwoo; his eyes are sparkling and he’s leaning over close to Wonwoo, exuberant and delighted. “Have you?”

“No, but it’s a bit reckless, don’t you think?”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, half-joking. “You Imugi really are a stiff bunch. Live a little dangerously!” He smiles at Wonwoo, though, to show that he doesn’t quite mean it. 

Wonwoo scowls. “We know how to live. Just because you’re a Haechi doesn’t mean you have to run into every situation headfirst, ask questions later.”

“Just because I’m not Imugi doesn’t mean I don’t have a plan,” Soonyoung retorts, but he’s good-natured about it. “For instance, while you were picking at your banchan I sent a special request to the kitchens for some hot chocolate.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to protest at Soonyoung’s choice of words, but stops. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung quips, easy. “As an apology for hitting you with that snowball.”

“How do you know I like hot chocolate? I could not like hot chocolate,” Wonwoo replies stroppily, almost snippily. 

Soonyoung sees right through it, though, and laughs. “Everyone likes hot chocolate.” 

Wonwoo has no response to that.

He’s is poking bits of food into his mouth like a gerbil when Soonyoung pipes up again. “You know what, I never did get your full name. What is it?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung sends him a sweet genuine smile, his eyes lit with interest. About him. A part of Wonwoo wants to shy away, wants to keep him at bay. There was something about Kwon Soonyoung that made him want to divulge all his secrets, which made him a dangerous person to know. Seoraksan was supposed to be a place of new beginnings for him, and he didn’t want old secrets creeping up and ruining what he was trying to build here.

“Jeon. It’s Jeon Wonwoo,” he tells him, voice soft and careful.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Soonyoung repeats after him, nodding. He takes a giant bite of rib, before he chews and swallows, a determined look on his face. “Starting today, I’m going to make sure your life is just a little bit more interesting.” He winks clumsily, making Wonwoo laugh a little. “Count on it.” To mark the ceremony of the start of their friendship, Soonyoung hands Wonwoo one of two mugs of hot chocolate that had appeared next to his plate and gestures for Wonwoo to clink his glass against his.

Maybe his first Christmas at Seoraksan wouldn’t be as lonely as he thought it would be, Wonwoo thinks, before he raises the mug to his lips and takes a deep swallow of the thick, sweet liquid. And despite feeling that he should be keeping him at arm’s length, Wonwoo finds himself wondering just what having Kwon Soonyoung as a friend would be like.

Not boring. Definitely not boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes:
> 
> \- Seoraksan (and all the other magic schools) are named after national parks all over South Korea. [Google Seoraksan](https://cache-graphicslib.viator.com/graphicslib/thumbs674x446/6411/SITours/3-day-seoraksan-and-sokcho-independent-tour-from-seoul-in-seoul-179304.jpg) and tell me there's no magical enclave of witches in that place. It's stunning.  
> \- MagMail = Mail via Magpie. Koreans love their magpies, apparently.  
> \- Samshin = okay, so, their headmaster is immortal and is a mountain god. Specifically, the god of the Seoraksan mountains. In the other magic schools, their headmasters are also called Samshin. All Samshin are different and yet the same. Does that make sense? I wish I'd included more about him in these stories but maybe next time.  
> \- The Hall of Worthies = is a real thing in Korean history, although it was established during the Joseon period.  
> \- The food = appear on the bamboo tablerunner. For no reason. I just thought the visual seemed cool!  
>  \- Durumagi = OKAY, so [this is what I was picturing](http://leesle.kr/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/Mens-Durumagi-Jacket-Navy-500x500.jpg) when I was talking about their uniforms, so just imagine something like this with different colors and linings. Imugi have navy blue and sage green, Haechi have crimson and royal blue, Kyeryong have mustard yellow and maroon.


	2. Year Two

He’s barely knocked on the door when it’s pulled open and he has an armful of boy. “Wonwoo! You’re here!” Soonyoung announces breathlessly into his ear.

Wonwoo staggers under the weight of Soonyoung, his luggage rolling away from him down the stoop almost despondently. “Soonyoung,” he manages to choke out. “We just saw each other a week ago.” He’d just arrived at Soonyoung’s family’s farm at Namyangju to spend the days after Christmas and before they had to return back to Seoraksan with him, and he had nearly been mowed over before he’d even gotten inside.

“I know, but it feels like I haven’t spoken to anyone since the break started and I’m about to run up the walls soon because I can’t do magic,” Soonyoung says, before releasing Wonwoo from his grip and grabbing him around the wrist to pull him inside. “Mom, Wonwoo’s here!”

Wonwoo meets Soonyoung’s parents, who are just as bright and as curious about Wonwoo as their son is, which takes him aback just a little.

“Why do your parents seem so interested in me?” Wonwoo asks as Soonyoung shows him where to put his things.

“Why wouldn’t they be? You’re my best friend. They know all about you.”

Soonyoung turns around at the sound of an armful of bags knocking against the wall. “Wonwoo? Did you just run into the door?”

“N-no,” Wonwoo lies. 

Best friend? That was new. 

Sure, they’d spent most of their time outside classes studying together, because Soonyoung claimed that he could only understand their history of magic lessons if Wonwoo explained it to him, and Wonwoo did, carefully and precisely, because Soonyoung asked it of him. Their little weekend study sessions eventually expanded to include Jihoon and Junhui, and pretty soon no one could spot any of them without the other. It was a normal sight to see the four of them together, Junhui with his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder, Wonwoo and Soonyoung with their heads leaning towards each other, exchanging banter, and Jihoon, rolling his eyes at all of them while trying desperately to hide the fond little smirk he often had on while he was with them.

Soonyoung mentioned that Seungkwan, a First Year Haechi, told him that it was neat that all of them made up the Three Houses of Seoraksan. He’d told Seungkwan he hadn’t even noticed. Wonwoo had, though, but he had simply chalked it down to them achieving a nice little balance among themselves. Junhui, the Kyeryong, was loud, giddy and loved to play pranks, but like all Kyeryong, at the core of it he was just a guy with a good, kind heart. Soonyoung was a Haechi, and like the creature that his House was named for, he was charismatic and brave, whether it was with regard to trying new things or just saying and doing stuff without thinking much of the consequences. Jihoon and himself, on the other hand, were both similar, yet different — all Imugi had aspirations of becoming fully-fledged dragons, and so those in their House were often characterized by goals and ambitions, but underneath it all was a patience, as well as a deep wisdom and respect for all kinds of knowledge. Jihoon would sometimes joke that his patience gets tried every second he spends with the rest of them, but the three of them see right through him.

Wonwoo had seen Soonyoung grow closer to both Jihoon (who he had taken to alternating between teasing mercilessly and talking deeply about music and production, a hobby for both of them) and Junhui (who was just as interested in Quidditch as Soonyoung was) in the past year since they’d become friends. He doesn’t think that there’s anything special in particular about his and Soonyoung’s friendship, other than a lot of whispered jokes and quips that make Jihoon throw crumpled up pieces of his notes at them. Sure, he absorbed enormous amounts of knowledge really quickly, but he was far from being funny or interesting or talented the way the rest of his friends were. It wasn’t much. 

Certainly not enough to deserve being anyone’s best friend, much less Soonyoung’s. Soonyoung, who had taken to magic as naturally as he had to being a part of Seoraksan, who the teachers thought could do no wrong, who was so charismatic he had friends everywhere they turned, who was so thoughtful and genuine that a part of Wonwoo still couldn’t believe that he was a real person who actually existed. Soonyoung, who was looking at Wonwoo right now like he didn’t know whether to laugh at him or to hug him.

“Okay, good,” Soonyoung says, instead. “Put your things down here in my room, and then I can give you the tour of the farm.”

Soonyoung’s farm is large, seemingly unruly and covered in snow, but Soonyoung’s father assures them, with a twinkle in his eye, that there’s a method to the madness around them. Soonyoung laughs heartily as he watches his father take his wand and feed the chickens in the magically-heated coop behind their house.

“These are my kids, Wonwoo, come meet them!”

Wonwoo peers over Soonyoung’s shoulder, a shout dying in his throat as Soonyoung ducks in through the gate. He watches Soonyoung clicking his tongue and carefully stroking the heads of the hens crowding around him, marvelling at how big they’ve grown, how beautiful they were, and admires the juxtaposition between brilliant wizard-to-be and simple country boy. Something catches in Wonwoo’s throat, and he simultaneously understands a little more and even less of this complicated boy that he calls his friend.

“I’ll just watch you from here, Soonyoung.”

He watches Soonyoung shrug from behind. “Suit yourself!” Wonwoo hears him say, before he continues showering the chickens with compliments they probably understand better than he thinks.

Later, after a long exhausting day of good old-fashioned farm chores like shoveling snow and feeding the animals in their barn, Wonwoo leans against the leg of Soonyoung’s bed, tired but a little bit proud of himself for all that manual labor, the mugs of hot chocolate Soonyoung’s mom had given them after dinner almost empty on Soonyoung’s dresser. He’s thinking about sending his mom a message to tell her to be proud of him, but he’s interrupted by Soonyoung coming into the room again, freshly showered and smelling like oranges.

“You did good today, city boy,” Soonyoung teases him, before hanging up the towel on the chair in front of his desk; Wonwoo rolls his eyes but gives him a small smirk. “Not bad.”

“I don’t think your dad will be handing the reins over to me anytime soon, though,” Wonwoo replies, scooching over and making room as Soonyoung sits down next to him, pulling his legs up to his chest and hugging them to him. “I’m exhausted.”

“That’s because you’re not used to manual labor,” Soonyoung says. He nudges against Wonwoo’s shoulder playfully. “You’re all bones.”

Wonwoo scoffs, and then presses a finger against Soonyoung’s cheek. Soonyoung pouts at him, puffing out his face even more. “As opposed to you, all cheeks?”

“My cheeks are healthy,” Soonyoung tells him cheerfully, and he smiles so brightly at Wonwoo that Wonwoo has no choice but to smile back.

“Besides, when we grow up, you have to help me manage this whole operation,” Soonyoung says. His head lolls back against the bed mattress, and he uses his palm to draw across the space in front of him. “When dad lets me take over later on, I have so many things I want to put in place, big plans. We’re going to become the biggest producer of pears in Namyangju, and we’ll supply restaurants all around the country. And it will be fun, because we’ll do it with magic. So you have to help me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know where to start, between Soonyoung’s life dream and his assignment to be there by his side when he fulfills it. “Me?”

Soonyoung turns his head to face Wonwoo, and Wonwoo does the same. “Of course! You’re the smartest person I know, _and_ my best friend. I can’t do this without you.”

“I... “ Wonwoo looks away quickly, eyes darting down to his hands, folded tightly in his lap. “That can’t be true, Soonyoung.”

“Don’t be silly, Wonwoo. Of course it is. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo shrugs, eyes flitting all over the room. Soonyoung’s desk. The world map. The poster of Shinee. Soonyoung’s bag from elementary, beat up but still serviceable. He hates conversations like this. “Like, you’re close to Jihoon and Junhui too, and you know, you have so many friends, even the ones in the higher years like Jonghyun from Imugi and—”

Soonyoung bursts into laughter. “I mean, yeah, but they’re not you. None of them are. You’re the easiest person to talk to in the whole school, and you make the funniest jokes—”

“You’re the _only_ person who laughs at my jokes,” Wonwoo interrupts him drily.

“— and you don’t, like, expect me to be anything,” Soonyoung finishes softly. “Anything I’m not yet, anyway.”

Nobody knew what destiny had in store for Soonyoung — so far, he’d taken to magic like a duck to water, but most of the faculty still pushed him harder than most other students because they wanted to see just what it was about him that made all three Houses react that way when he came in. Soonyoung managed as best he could, but Wonwoo doesn’t have to be a mind-reader or an expert diviner like Teacher Jung to know that the ‘not knowing’ was something that bothered Soonyoung more than he let on.

“You treat me normally.” Soonyoung fidgets with the hole in the knee of his pajamas while he’s saying this, apprehensive all of a sudden.

“Oh. Uh, you’re… welcome?” Wonwoo doesn’t know how to respond to this.

“Yeah, I mean,” Soonyoung stops, then inhales deeply before barreling on. “I’m just, I don’t know, really comfortable around you. Like I can tell you anything. Isn’t that what a best friend is?” He looks up, finally, before he changes position, crossing his legs at the ankles, and stares straight into Wonwoo’s face, the expression on his face open and sincere.

“I… I guess so?” Wonwoo’s eyebrows knit together — he feels slightly disarmed at how Soonyoung is looking at him right now. “I’ve never had one before.”

“Really?” Soonyoung asks. He smiles, before leaning forward and resting his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Well, now you do.”

And Wonwoo thinks, maybe, it’s not a bad thing to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Houses!
> 
> There's only 3 houses because I figured... 4 isn't a great number for Koreans, also less creatures for me to come up with. I didn't want to have to resort to making the Kumiho one of the legendary creatures for the Houses.
> 
> So obviously, the Houses are named after legendary Korean animals from folklore. I settled on these three because they seemed the most different, and had particular traits assigned to them that were distinct enough to be character traits. Haechi is also referred to as Haetae/Haitai, and is called a "unicorn-lion". It's the symbol of Seoul, the city, and is recognized as a creature that's associated with justice, law and order. 
> 
> The Imugi is a lesser dragon aspiring to be a greater dragon -- it's a benevolent creature that's mostly associated with water, so the Imugi has blue and green for its House colors. Imugi is kind of a hybrid Slytherclaw, in my mind. 
> 
> The Kyeryong/Gyelyong/Gyeryong is a cockatrice or a rooster-dragon, but it's not a harbinger of death like its Western counterpart. In Korean folklore, it is often used as a chariot-pulling beast. I also read [here](http://literarytrebuchet.blogspot.com/2016/06/10-monstrosities-from-korean-folklore.html) that they're very kind and gentle towards humans, hence, the traits of loyalty and kindness.


	3. Year Three

Every Third Year student at Seoraksan had several things to look forward to: being able to try out for their House Quidditch team, getting electives and finally getting permission to go out to Sokcho on weekends.

It amused Wonwoo that only a few kilometers away from their enclave of stone and forest, the sea rolled against the shore, azure blue and sparkling. Sokcho was a coastal town with plenty of seafood and beaches, but off one of the small roads near the Jungang Market was an entire square called the Jeogaksu filled with boutiques, shops and stalls of all kinds of magical knick-knacks and doodads that most Seoraksan students of age visited during their spare time. 

Days on a weekend out at Sokcho were spent perusing the alleys which had everything from Witch Weekly magazines to the latest treats from all over the world (Jihoon was obsessed with Chocolate Frogs and their cards), or, if you were in the middle of asking someone to be your significant other, taking a walk out and confessing by Yeongnangho Lake.

“Did you know that Seungcheol is going to ask out Nayoung here next week?”

“Oh?” Wonwoo answers, not exactly interested but not disinterested either. The four of them had stayed over at Seoraksan this Christmas all together, as they all had a project for their Geomancy elective due right at the start of the new year. They had declared a mini-holiday for themselves for until Christmas Day, and were spending the night before Christmas walking around the winter market at Sokcho.

Junhui and Jihoon had suggested to go look for some fish skewers but Wonwoo blanched at the thought. Soonyoung steps in and rescues Wonwoo from the ordeal by suggesting they split up and meet in an hour by the Jeogaksu entrance so that they could make it back to Seoraksan before curfew. 

There would still be some time to go before they had to leave, so Soonyoung suggested they walk off their dinner of spicy chicken stew by the lake. Nursing cups of hot chocolate, they wrapped the coats they’d chosen to wear instead of their durumagi tighter around themselves and made paths through the light dusting of snow that fell by the lakeside.

Seungcheol was on the Quidditch team with Soonyoung. Quidditch was a sport that was adopted by Seoraksan after a group of excitable Japanese witches from Mahoutokoro on an exchange program told their Korean counterparts all about it, and it had grown into such a craze that the Korean Congress of Magic finally sanctioned a national team seven years ago. Although they weren’t quite as accomplished as the Japanese national team just yet, the Korean national Quidditch team was making its way into contention for the next Quidditch world cup, something Soonyoung tells Wonwoo at least every other day.

Wonwoo is not as enamored with the sport as Junhui and Soonyoung are, but he goes to all the games, particularly those where Soonyoung is given the chance to play Chaser. He’s still new to the team, so there’s a pecking order, but everyone in school talks about how much of a natural he is, how talented he is and how brilliantly he moves, and Wonwoo feels like his chest expands every time he hears it said. He knows how much it means to Soonyoung to do well at something he likes so much.

Secretly, Soonyoung tells Wonwoo that he thinks this is what he was meant to be good at. Wonwoo’s not so sure, but it doesn’t hurt to be naturally skilled at something you liked to do.

Still, skill or no skill, Quidditch is a dangerous sport, so every time a game is set, without fail, Wonwoo parks himself on the highest part of the bleachers surrounding the pitch and, despite his misgivings about being so high up, squints at one small figure in red and blue, barely breathing until the final whistle is blown. 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says casually. “When she gets back from break. He says he’s going to do it right here, at Beombawi Rock.”

They’re at the foot of said rock, and Wonwoo laughs as Soonyoung strikes a pose that’s supposed to mimic the crouching tiger that the rock is supposed to resemble. “Hoshi, Hoshi,” Wonwoo says, teasing Soonyoung lightly when his eyes narrow like the namesake animal’s.

“What is it about this place that makes it a good confession place anyway?” Soonyoung says, straightening up from his contorted position. “My sister says Binho — that’s the guy she’s seeing right now — confessed to her here and she saw something here that she took as a sign to mean he was _the_ one.”

He continues, and Wonwoo watches him speak his mind. “She told me that she heard that the place itself had magical properties, and when Binho asked her to go out with him here, she heard the stars sing or something like that. It’s supposed to mean something, being confessed to here — something about the other person’s intentions. That’s what I told Seungcheol when he asked me about it the other week, but this place, it doesn’t feel like anything special right now!”

He takes a deep swig of the hot chocolate and shoots the empty cup into a nearby trashcan. There’s a damp little mustache left on his upper lip that makes Wonwoo want to sigh and fuss at Soonyoung.

“Come here,” Wonwoo says, giving in. When Soonyoung comes up to him cheerfully, smiling widely, Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but feels the familiar feeling of fondness swarm his chest, a constant companion whenever he spends time with the other. He lifts up his sleeve and wipes away at Soonyoung’s lip, smirking when Soonyoung whines a little about how harshly he’s doing it. “Stop complaining, you baby. You looked like an idiot.”

He says it warmly, though, so Soonyoung knows he doesn’t mean it.

“Anyway, you haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Won-woo,” Soonyoung says, annoyance creeping into his voice. “You’re the worst at paying attention to what I’m saying.”

“That’s not true, I listen to everything you say,” Wonwoo almost says, but he’s struck with the sudden feeling that that might not be the best thing to say under the circumstances.

“Sorry,” is what he says instead. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Never mind,” Soonyoung says, pouting, arms crossed. The moon peeps out just then from behind a cloud, and the snow-laden rock is suddenly bathed in an almost ethereal light. In the distance, behind Soonyoung, the lake stretches out into the horizon and the moon paints a glistening pearly path along the middle. There’s a light breeze picking up, and it ruffles the fringes of Soonyoung’s hair slightly. There’s a quiet little hush, and something inside Wonwoo tilts, just so.

“What? What are you looking at?” Soonyoung says, still grouchy. He’s leaning against the rock, painting a picture against the staggering scenery behind him, a tiny resolute figure against the vastness of nature behind him.

It takes Wonwoo’s breath away how beautiful everything is.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Nothing. Maybe it’s a good confession spot because of the altitude or something.”

Soonyoung barks out laughing at Wonwoo’s answer. “Good one!” He pushes himself off the rock, and the moon fades away, hiding behind the cloud again. “We should probably head back now before Jihoon pitches a fit. You know how he can’t open his Chocolate Frogs except in your common room.”

Wonwoo falls into step with Soonyoung, trying not to think about how he’d looked bathed in that light — otherworldly and precious, beyond telling.

“Altitude… silly,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath, still chuckling, as they make their way back to the Christmas market. 

Wonwoo wishes he could say the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- All of these places are real except the Jeogaksu. Beombawi Rock is indeed called the crouching tiger rock. Hoshi!  
>  \- Geomancy is an ancient method of divination that's based on interpreting dirt thrown on the ground. I kid you not. It sounds like a very magic school kind of elective, imo.  
>  \- Junhui is also a Chaser on the Kyeryong Quidditch team.  
>  \- The information about Mahoutokoro is from the [Pottermore website](https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/mahoutokoro). They are super good at Quidditch.


	4. Year Four

Soonyoung is far too excited for a vacation in Changwon, of all places.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Wonwoo says, eyeing Soonyoung’s close to vibrating form as they take up opposite seats on the train. “There’s nothing much to see there. It’s not like Jeju or anything.”

“I’m not excited to see Changwon, silly,” Soonyoung tells Wonwoo, rolling his eyes pointedly before turning to stare out the window. “I’m excited to see your house. It’s only fair, since you’ve already seen mine.”

“Multiple times,” Wonwoo points out, because he’s spent most of his summers at Soonyoung’s farm since they became friends rather than his own home, owing to his parents’ busy schedule. This Christmas, however, they made it a point to not go on another dig until after the New Year, so that they would be able to spend time with both their sons, Wonwoo and his younger brother Bohyuk.

Soonyoung just happened to be an addition to the household this year.

Wonwoo watches Soonyoung step through his front door and stop three feet in, dropping his duffel bag in surprise. “Wow. Your house is so…”

“Weird?”

“No,” Soonyoung retorts. “It’s not weird at all. It’s _cool_.”

Wonwoo’s parents settled in their Changwon home a few months before Wonwoo received his Seoraksan letter, and decided to make it their home base without forcing their children to move around, since Wonwoo’s dad had family in the area. Outside, it looked like an ordinary, almost boring house, with white shutters and white curtains, but inside the walls were painted a deep earthy red color that made the masks, vases, sculptures and talismans shoved into every available nook and cranny stand out and made Wonwoo’s house look like a makeshift museum that was a love letter to the ancient and the old. 

Soonyoung zooms over to one of the several display cases filled with pictures and artifact replicas, which showed scenes taken by either his mother or his father triumphantly pointing at a variety of different dig sites all over the world — the expedition in the South Americas, in Egypt with scholars from Uagadou, various sites all around the Korean peninsula. In each picture, there was so much movement and excitement and pride in the things they were doing, and Wonwoo had always been grateful that they were wizards because he couldn’t imagine displaying pictures of his parents’ trips that were stock still and rigid. 

Wonwoo chuckles, but red tinges his cheeks, and his eyes blink rapidly in flattery. “No one’s ever said it was cool.”

“That’s silly,” Soonyoung replies dismissively. He looks at Wonwoo, eyes sparkling with excitement. “It suits you, this house.”

“What is that supposed to mean? How does a person suit a house?” Wonwoo blusters, heat tingling underneath the turtleneck he’d shoved on that morning. It’s getting strangely uncomfortable, standing in his living room with Soonyoung, watching him amidst the things that make his home his home.

“I can’t explain it,” Soonyoung muses, head tilted, lips screwed up in a pout. Wonwoo wants him to stop being so cute. “It’s just a feeling I have, I guess.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, trying to get the warmth running currents underneath his skin under control. “Come on, I’ll show you to where you’ll be sleeping.”

After Soonyoung drops off his things in Wonwoo’s room, he insists on Wonwoo showing him around the neighborhood. And so he does. There’s not much about Changwon he knows, aside from the places he frequents while he’s home for the summer — Soonyoung had rolled his eyes so annoyedly when Wonwoo showed him his favorite gaming shops in the neighborhood — but it still gives him a good feeling in the pit of his stomach when he points out place after place to Soonyoung.

That is, until he rounds the corner four blocks away from his house and runs straight into his past.

Wonwoo is playfully refusing Soonyoung’s whiny requests for Wonwoo to treat him to some skewers when he hears someone mention his name. “Jeon Wonwoo?”

He turns around, almost confused. Soonyoung looks around too.

There’s a boy about their age standing behind them, looking like he’d just exited the shop they’d passed. He’s short, and skinny, with thick glasses and a high-pitched nervous voice.

Wonwoo turns white.

Soonyoung nudges at him. “Wonwoo, do you know him?”

“I…”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy says, blinking like he’s rising out of a stupor. “I-I don’t know what came over me, I just—” He looks at Wonwoo, confused, and not without a little fear. “I’m sorry, do I know you? I just, I mean, I’m new here and I… I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo shakes his head tersely, pulling on Soonyoung to hurry him along. “You must have been mistaken. We don’t know each other. Soonyoung, come on.”

“But Won-”

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo interrupts him abruptly, and Soonyoung is shocked into silence, his mouth dropping open. “Let’s go.” He gives the other boy a deep bow, and he tries desperately to keep his voice from wavering. “I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

Wonwoo hears his heartbeat in his ears and he turns around blindly before going off, the palpitations dulling everything around him into a barely navigable haze. He is dazed, disoriented, briskly walking wherever his legs are leading him, and it’s only when Soonyoung yanks him back from oncoming traffic that he realizes that he’s followed him the whole time. 

The breath gets knocked out of him when his back hits the red brick of the building wall that Soonyoung throws him against; tears spring into his eyes — why he’s crying, however, he’s not sure. His lungs succumb to another brand of pressure when Soonyoung wraps arms around him to press him against the wall, as if to ensure that Wonwoo won’t try to leave him behind again.

His breathing is ragged; it’s difficult, so difficult to breathe. He lets out a pained whine — the arms around him tighten even more.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, it’s okay,” Soonyoung murmurs. Wonwoo feels him bury his face into his neck, reassuring him of his presence. “I’m here.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, dizzy, and sags against him.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting in a nearby coffee shop. It’s quiet in the corner they’ve chosen, and Wonwoo’s staring into nothingness, shoulders hunched, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

Soonyoung hands him a cup of hot chocolate that he’d ordered, and quietly eases into the seat next to Wonwoo. “I asked them to make them the way you like it,” he says softly. “With the marshmallows mixed in before the hot chocolate is poured in.”

Hesitantly, Wonwoo wraps fingers around the mug. “You didn’t have to do all this, Soonyoung.”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung starts, before he stops, unsure. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s completely fine, but I just want you to know I’m… I’m here to listen to you. If you want.”

“I… you don’t want to know.”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says in a soft sing-song voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood and make Wonwoo smile, and Wonwoo would have made a joke but he feels something hot shift inside him, like he’s swallowed hot coals and now they’re carving heated paths down his throat. “Of course I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Wonwoo tells Soonyoung, and Soonyoung sits back, because there’s something in Wonwoo’s eyes he’s never seen before, something fierce and determined and oddly shameful all at once. “I’m not a good person, Soonyoung.”

“Wonwoo…” Soonyoung murmurs; he’s quiet and confused, but he reaches out and touches Wonwoo’s shoulder, which is tense and rigid. “That’s not true.”

“You don’t know what happened before I came to Seoraksan.” Who he was, what he was running away from… he made a promise to himself that none of that was touching his new beginning. “You don’t know what I did.”

“You’re right,” Soonyoung tells him, simply, matter-of-factly. But he faces him all the same, without judgment. “You don’t have to tell me what you did, Wonwoo. But knowing you right now, I just want you to know… You can trust me.”

Wonwoo remembers how much misery he’d brought his mother, how disappointed his father was in him. He wanted to lock all those memories in a vault and throw away the key, wants to never revisit them again. Changwon was supposed to be a new beginning for him, for all of them. Of all the places for Younghyun to end up in, Changwon was not supposed to be it.

He thinks about the years he’d spent in Seoraksan. He’s a Fourth Year now — he has a tentative future in magical academic research that he’s planning on pursuing, he has friends, he’s even started receiving a few pink and red hanji notes from girls trying to catch his attention. He does well in school, his brother is happy in his non-magical school, his parents are proud of him… no one had to know what had happened before.

But Soonyoung is looking at him, open and trusting, and Wonwoo crumbles.

“We… my parents, you know they’re archeologists with the Magical Artifact Restoration Society of Korea, right? We moved around a lot when I was much younger, and I never got a lot of good friends because I don’t, because it’s not as easy for me, you know?” He looks at Soonyoung, hoping he understands.

Soonyoung nods, carefully.

Wonwoo continues. “One time, we managed to stay awhile, in Jeonju. I went to school there, and I don’t know. It’s a nice town with nice people, but for some reason the kids I went to school with liked to pick on other people, especially those who were different.”

“There was a boy, his name was Younghyun. He was in my grade, and he was quiet and stuff. He had braces and really thick glasses and spoke really softly and… everyone bullied him, bullied him so badly. And I wanted to fit in, so…”

“You bullied him too.”

Wonwoo refuses to look at Soonyoung now, staring adamantly into his lap instead. “One of the older boys had this, like, blog online and he put up a really mean post about Younghyun, and the meaner your comment was, the more likes it would get. My comment… it got the most likes.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen, and Wonwoo feels like he can barely swallow.

“He never did anything wrong to me, I just — I wanted to fit in so much. I said the most awful things, the worst things… and in that moment, when I wrote them, I think I meant them. I meant to call him names, to say he was a freak, to release all the ugliest things I had ever heard onto that platform.”

“For awhile, the kids who picked on him treated me like a king and I actually felt good about what I did. Never mind that they took up some of the things I said and called the kid things that I had suggested for them to call. Never mind that I… that I watched them do it, and didn’t do a thing to stop them.”

“But a few days later, the principal found out, and all of us who left comments were called into the office. I can never forget the look in my mother’s eyes when I walked into the door and saw her there. She was so, so, so disappointed in me.”

Wonwoo’s voice cracks. “Even when I explained later on that I didn’t mean it, even when she said she understood, I could never take it back, those moments when she thought I was capable of such ugly thoughts.”

“You were a kid, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung chimes in. Wonwoo’s trying not to sniffle. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I still did it, though,” Wonwoo replies. It’s something he will never forgive himself for. “The principal wanted to expel the person who owned the blog, as an example, and all the boys started pointing the finger at me — the new kid.”

“That’s not fair!” Soonyoung exclaims, his brows furrowing with anger. He’s shoulder to shoulder with Wonwoo now, so that Wonwoo doesn’t have to raise his voice much to tell his story. “That wasn’t your fault! It wasn’t!”

“I panicked when they all started saying I did it, so much that I… I made their noses start to grow.”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops. “Like Pinocchio?”

Wonwoo ducks his head, chuckles almost sarcastically. “Yes. Just like Pinocchio. That was my great moment of knowing I was a wizard — not something I’m proud of.”

“There was a lot of confusion and screaming; everyone started panicking and the parents of the kids who lied about me were either terrified of me or wanted to shake me. My mom conjured up a bunch of rope to tie them all up and my dad messaged the Magical Congress to send their best Wipers.”

“While we waited for the Wipers to show up, I kneeled in front of Younghyun and his parents and apologized. I apologized with every fiber of my being. They just looked at me, horrified, and backed as far away from me as possible. Younghyun couldn’t even look me in the eye before the Wipers reached into his brain and took away the memory of me being a student there.”

“When I left Jeonju, everything went on as if I was never there. The older kids continued to make fun of Younghyun, made more posts about him and a bunch of other kids who were too scared to fight back, and I got my letter.”

“So Younghyun… he was the boy we saw earlier?”

Wonwoo ducks his head, ashamed. “He wasn’t supposed to remember who I was, I don’t… I don’t know what happened.” He screws his eyes shut. His fingers scratch at the ceramic of the mug in his hands, the hot chocolate long gone cold.

“I messaged your mom about what happened after you left — she arrived almost instantly by chukjibup and did a quick Wipe while I went off to look for you. She’s waiting for us at your house, when you’re ready to come home.”

Wonwoo feels small, like he’s ten years old again. “She’s probably disappointed again.”

“She’s probably just worried about you, Wonwoo. We all were.” Soonyoung sighs, before taking a deep sip from his own mug. “I was so scared when I saw you about to walk onto the road, I almost broke the International Statute of Secrecy to do magic in front of all the ilban-in.”

Ilban-in were what they called non-magical people. Wonwoo shakes his head, quiet and morose still. “I’m sorry.”

“Wonwoo, do you think that knowing that about you would make me not want to be your friend or something?” Soonyoung looks genuinely confused and Wonwoo wants to shake him. 

There is a part of him that feels a tiny sense of relief that he doesn’t have to hide this odious little secret anymore, that he doesn’t have to pretend that he was this good person who just came to Seoraksan to be a wizard, that he wasn’t a fraud who was running away.

“Because it’s not, by the way,” Soonyoung continues when Wonwoo doesn’t say anything. “You’re not the same person who did that before — besides, you were a kid back then. The way I know you now, that’s who you are.” He tucks an arm through Wonwoo’s, and it makes Wonwoo feel like glass, fragile and delicate and incredibly breakable. It’s not fair how good of a person Soonyoung is, how giving he is, how generous. Wonwoo never tells him any of this, hides it all behind his jabs about how Soonyoung is a slob, about how loud he is, about how annoying he can get and how he can barely explain the intellectual theory behind magic to save his life, but the truth of the matter is that spending time with Soonyoung, seeing how he goes out of his way to help out everyone, friends and strangers alike, makes Wonwoo want to be a better person — the kind of person that people like Younghyun wouldn’t be scared of, the kind of person his mother would be proud to call her son.

“You mean, it _doesn’t_ , not it’s not,” Wonwoo corrects him. Soonyoung looks at him, a grin creeping across his face when he sees Wonwoo finally look up at him to give him a tiny smile. “Your grammar is terrible.”

“You love me, terrible grammar and all,” Soonyoung teases Wonwoo; he pokes hard into Wonwoo’s side, and Wonwoo almost upends his hot chocolate all over himself.

Soonyoung laughs loud, almost donkey-like brays, when he sees Wonwoo staring at him with dead eyes. He’s laughing so hard he misses when the expression on Wonwoo’s face melts into something softer, sweeter.

Maybe he does. Terrible grammar and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Chukjibup is a REAL THING in Korean folklore. It's the art of land-folding, meaning, magically folding land so that a step actually is a hundred miles of distance. It's very cool, and a nice alternative to Floo Powder for a Korean magical school setting.  
>  \- Wipers are the counterparts of HP's Obliviators. I didn't have the wherewithal to think of a Korean name for it SORRY.  
>  \- "Ilban-in" means ordinary or regular in Korean. Thank you to my friend for that bit of information :D


	5. Year Five

“You’re late.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Sorry, King of Time. I didn’t realize it was a capital offense.” He slouches into the circular room, empty and devoid of people, the cold stone and the late night air adding to the chill in the room fostered between the two young wizards.

The replica of the Cheomseongdae at Seoraksan was commissioned a few years after the famous tower was built in Gyeongju, which made sense, since both Seoraksan and the Cheomseongdae were both the brainchildren of Queen Seondeok, the first female ruler of the Kingdom of Silla centuries ago, who also happened to be quite the capable witch and diviner. She had a special soft spot for astronomy, and so the observatory at Seoraksan, unlike the humble tower in Gyeongju, had been added to and refined over the years, growing taller and sturdier with every passing generation in her memory. 

Soonyoung raises his eyebrow, haughty. “You _know_ we have to get the readings at the exact right time today.” He lets out a little huff from his place by the large window, seat pulled up right up to the enchanted telescope Teacher Ahn had lent to them for that evening’s readings. “Taking Celestial Knowledge and Astronomy was _your_ brilliant idea, wasn’t it?”

Trust Soonyoung to throw that in his face right now. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It was a good idea at the time.”

“So many things were,” Soonyoung mutters under his breath, his eye pressed against the telescope. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes again, before he pointedly takes the seat furthest away from Soonyoung, closer to the tiny fireplace with the dying embers of the fire Soonyoung had stoked hours earlier. Seeing it makes Wonwoo feel a tiny bit guilty about his tardiness — even though they were fighting, it was still a dick move to be late on purpose to annoy Soonyoung.

They had a semester-long project to track the movement of the constellations of their zodiac signs, and they had started the assignment in good spirits at first, but this was the second time they’d be taking notes for their class in mutinous silence. Of the ten pairs in the elective, Teacher Ahn had assigned them the use of the observatory on the 24th of every month, which meant that they were stuck inside doing homework on Christmas Eve.

He ignores the little flare of hurt and anger that have become semi-permanent fixtures in his chest ever since the fight with Soonyoung, and pulls out his Astronomy book to distract himself.

They haven’t been alone with each other ever since they’d fought almost two months ago, near the start of the school year — last month, they had done their work individually. Since the fight, Wonwoo only spent time with Jihoon while Soonyoung stuck with Junhui, mostly because he was from the same House as…

Hayoung.

Hayoung, the sweet Chaser on the Kyeryong team with the long hair and lovely smile, who almost knocked Soonyoung off his broom during one joint team practice with Haechi. She’d flown over to him and helped him right himself on his broom again, and he’d had stars in his eyes ever since.

It wasn’t that Wonwoo minded Soonyoung finding someone and spending time with her. He was happy for him, honestly. Hayoung was kind and pretty, with big eyes that often sparkled whenever Soonyoung did something stupidly charming to impress her. She was nice, albeit a little shy, in the brief times she’d joined them to study. She was a year younger than them and had wildly different interests magic-wise, so she didn’t have any shared classes with them. All they had in common was Soonyoung, really.

Wonwoo didn’t mind any of that, not at all. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. That’s what he’d told Jihoon when their cold war had stretched into a second month. Soonyoung dating someone, he didn’t mind any of that. 

What he minded was Soonyoung forgetting to show up for things they were working on together, even relying on Wonwoo to write out his parts for him because he stayed out late running drills with Hayoung. By the third time he skimped out on him, Wonwoo had had it, and he lashed out at Soonyoung in front of Jihoon and Junhui. To this day, Wonwoo didn’t know what took over him — all he knew was that seeing Soonyoung waltz into their usual study room looking dazed and sated and having what looked suspiciously like lip gloss underneath his ear set a fire inside Wonwoo, and before he knew it he was being kicked out of the library after furiously telling off Soonyoung for freeloading off of him. 

“After all these years, it turns out leeching off of people turns out to be your special gift. Fantastic job, Wonder Boy.”

Soonyoung had also been kicked out of the library, on account of almost punching Wonwoo in the face. They’d been at odds ever since.

Wonwoo tries not to bristle at the memory, focuses instead on the words on his book.

_The easiest way to locate the Gemini constellation is to find its two brightest stars Castor and Pollux eastward from the familiar “V” shaped asterism of Taurus and the three stars of Orion’s belt._

Wonwoo’s eyes wander to Soonyoung’s quiet form; he’s bent over his notebook, making annotations and markings, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. It’s adorable, and the picture he makes — soft, quiet, bathed in moonlight — makes Wonwoo’s heart flutter, brings up memories he’d locked deep inside, not to be touched ever again.

At least, that’s what he’d thought.

Wonwoo shakes his head, tamps down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, and forces himself to focus on his book again.

_In Greek mythology, Gemini was associated with the myth of Castor and Pollux, the children of Leda and Argonauts both. Pollux was the son of Zeus, who seduced Leda, while Castor was the son of Tyndareus, king of Sparta and Leda's husband._

Stupid Zeus, getting in the way of happy married people.

Wonwoo coughs at the sudden thought that pops into his head, disturbing Soonyoung’s quiet reverie and making him raise his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replies in a gravelly voice, something still caught in his throat. “I’m-I’m fine.”

Soonyoung looks at him for a beat or two before he sighs and returns to observing the Gemini constellation through the telescope. “I’m almost done here with Gemini, and I took the liberty of taking notes for Cancer earlier, so you didn’t need to show up, to be honest.”

The words are said without any venom, but the irony of it — of their whole fight — cuts something deep inside Wonwoo nonetheless. “I said I was sorry, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung looks up again, like he’s annoyed. “I-”

“You know what, don’t worry, I’ll do next month’s and you can just go off and do what you really want to do.”

“And what do you think that is, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo grits his teeth. “Nothing.” All of a sudden, the thought of staying a second longer in the same room as Soonyoung — besotted, enamored, happy Soonyoung — made him want to retch. “You seem to have everything under control already, so I’ll just—” Go, is what he was going to say, but the word lodges itself in his throat when Wonwoo realizes that the door he had come in through not twenty minutes earlier was not budging.

“Wonwoo?”

“What did you do to the door, Soonyoung?”

“Me?” Soonyoung exclaims incredulously. He stands up, and the chair he’s sitting on skids backward, almost knocking the telescope over. “I didn’t do anything — in case you didn’t notice, I was over here _working_.”

“It’s stuck!” Wonwoo throws all of his weight in attempting to wrench the door open, to no avail. “It wasn’t stuck when I came in.”

“Wonwoo, stop talking, you just sound more and more stupid—”

At this point, Wonwoo has half a mind to throw him out of the window.

“Stop moving, there’s a piece of paper on the floor you’re stomping on!” Soonyoung sinks to his knees and pulls out something gingerly from underneath Wonwoo’s shoes. Wonwoo watches him read the piece of paper, the expression on Soonyoung’s face getting more and more annoyed with every line.

“What?” Wonwoo asks, when Soonyoung lets out a loud and aggrieved sigh. “What does it say?”

“Our friend Jihoon has gotten incredibly talented at locking chants, is what it says,” Soonyoung replies, walking back to the table where the telescope is perched on precariously. He stabilizes it, before sinking onto the chair he’d almost knocked over. “He’s told us to ‘talk it out’ by dawn so that he doesn’t have to murder us during Christmas dinner.”

Wonwoo scowls as he reads the note himself. “It’s none of Jihoon’s business.”

“It’s not,” Soonyoung agrees, an identical frown on his face, and Wonwoo would have given him a high five except he’s not Soonyoung’s best friend anymore.

Not that he cares, or anything.

“Whatever, let’s just sleep and deal with him in the morning. He can’t keep us locked in here forever,” Soonyoung mutters. He takes out his wand and transfigures the chair he’s sitting on into a makeshift sleeping bag, getting into it almost immediately. “Do you want me to stoke the fire or is that something you can handle on your own?”

The casual insult finds its mark. Wonwoo stares at Soonyoung now, and the hundreds of words he’d built up inside him since November finally start to bubble over. “When did you start being such a jerk?”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops. He sits up, black hair splintering every which way, which Wonwoo would normally find cute except they’re currently _in a huge, almighty row._ “Me? How about you? You told me you’d be here at nine so we could do this together!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“It’s Christmas Eve, there’s a shitload of things I’d rather be doing, and it could have been over much sooner if you’d just shown up on time!” Soonyoung is standing now, face red, absolutely furious. His cheeks are brighter than his durumagi, which is rumpled and askew, and he’s stomping over to where Wonwoo is sitting, arms crossed, cool and closed off.

Wonwoo stares up at him sullenly, the Imugi coming through in his cold gaze, perfectly calculated to offset Soonyoung’s fiery rage. “Things like hanging out with Hayoung?”

The response has Soonyoung setting his jaw mulishly, pitting the stubbornness of the Haechi against Wonwoo’s reticence. “That’s not the point here.”

“I forgot the point, honestly, other than you being a giant douche now.” _You’re not the same person I used to know_ is the underlying message, and the sentiment causes Wonwoo’s voice to waver first.

Soonyoung stops, narrows his eyes at him. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Wonwoo retorts. He turns around, trying to hide his mortification. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. I don’t want to talk anymore, Soonyoung.” He hunches over, fingers fumbling, desperate to find his wand in the folds of his durumagi so he can fix the fire and they could just stick to opposite corners until morning. “Good night.”

All this yelling between them did nothing but carve deeper and deeper wounds into his chest, and Wonwoo doesn’t want to continue, lest nothing be left of him. An ache settles over his chest, and Wonwoo takes a deep breath as silently as possible, trying to compose himself before he lifts a shaky hand to fix the fire.

What he doesn’t expect is to feel arms wrap around his midsection, pulling him tight against a familiar warmth. His wand clatters to the floor, dropped in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Soonyoung tells him, voice warbling; Wonwoo can feel him press his face into the back of Wonwoo’s durumagi, and he bites his lip to stop the tingling sensation in his nose from spreading to his eyes. He looks up, blinking rapidly, willing everything inside himself to keep himself from sagging back against him in relief. Tentatively, he reaches down and places his hands over Soonyoung’s clasped fingers, pulling tight against his stomach. 

“Soonyou—”

“Wait, I want to talk first,” Soonyoung interrupts him, and a laugh explodes out of Wonwoo — maybe out of relief, maybe because despite all the lies he’d convinced himself of, he’s missed Soonyoung. “Don’t laugh at me, Wonwoo, I’m doing my best here,” Soonyoung whines, and Wonwoo thinks he’s never been more fond of his high-pitched complaining than in this moment.

“Okay, okay,” Wonwoo says, and he bites back a smile when Soonyoung clutches at his fingers, intertwine them with his. “I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry for making you do all the work,” Soonyoung murmurs into the fabric of his robe. “It was unfair of me. I’m sorry. I was a dick. I missed you. The past few months have been so bad. I really missed you.”

“I… I missed you too, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says softly. He sniffles, because it’s a lot, because he’s overwhelmed, because Soonyoung’s holding him and his heart feels warm for the first time in a long time. “I’m sorry I said all those things, too. I know you just… you just wanted to spend time with Hayoung, and I should have been more understanding and… I get it now. You just, you just tell me, and I’ll cover for you. We all will.”

“There’s no need to,” Soonyoung tells him. He’s lain his head on Wonwoo’s back now, voice quiet. His gentle little sniffles punctuate the air between them. “Me and Hayoung… we’re just friends now.”

Wonwoo’s fingers, turned up to clasp against Soonyoung’s, freeze. “What? Ow, Soonyoung, what are you—” He gets dragged down in front of the fire, landing on the sleeping bag that Soonyoung had transfigured and, with a single flick of his wrist, managed to get underneath them. His head hits a pillow, and he looks over his shoulder at the top of Soonyoung’s hair. “What are we doing?” he whispers at him after awhile, after it appears that Soonyoung seems willing to spend the rest of his night nestled against Wonwoo.

“It… it didn’t work out with Hayoung, but I think it’s for the best, because we—the two of us—we didn’t really have much in common outside of Quidditch. Like, there were so many weird silences when it was just us two that… it got weird quickly.”

“M’Sorry, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo murmurs, and he realizes that he means it. “She seemed really nice.” His fingers tighten around Soonyoung’s, and he starts to rub his thumb over Soonyoung’s knuckles, trying to comfort him the best way he could.

“She is nice, and we’ll be really good friends eventually, I think.”

“Um…” Wonwoo hums. “That’s good, I suppose.”

Soonyoung exhales, sounding exhausted. “Can we promise not to let anything stupid like love get in between us, ever again?”

Wonwoo’s ears prick and he jerks, a little, in Soonyoung’s embrace. “Love? Did you just say love?”

Soonyoung laughs, nuzzles even closer against Wonwoo. “I mean, I didn’t _love_ Hayoung, but like, in the future. If you or I ever fall in love, we should promise not to behave like jerks anymore and we should promise not to let it get between our friendship.”

“I…”

“Please, Wonwoo?”

The fire burns bright, in quiet little hisses and crackles, and the cold in the air settles around them, with the breeze balancing the flames.

“I’ll try,” Wonwoo whispers in response, and Soonyoung finally looks up, appeased.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

He gives Wonwoo the sweetest little smile, and the look in his eyes unlocks something inside Wonwoo, makes everything just fade into background noise, everything except the one thing he’s been trying to ignore for a good long while now.

“Good night, Wonwoo.”

“Good night, Soonyoung.”

In the morning, they wake up to the sounds of Junhui cooing at how cute they looked while they were spooning (“I knew Wonwoo would be the little spoon!”) and the sight of Jihoon with a smug, triumphant smile on his face. Wonwoo feels off though, despite having the familiar warmth of Soonyoung tucked against his side, and not even the sweet smell wafting from the cups of hot chocolate the two had brought for them in case they needed to apologize for locking them both in could remedy it.

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe he’d started going down this path a long time ago. Maybe he’d had one foot down that path even before he’d been hit by that snowball. Maybe it had all started when the little boy with the big smile stepped onto the platform he’d just stepped off of, when the Imugi inside him had called out to him to invite him. Whatever it was, Wonwoo has to deal with it now, because last night he realized why he’d been so upset about Hayoung, why he’d been so hurt about Soonyoung behaving that way towards him, why his heart has always done this funny thing whenever Soonyoung laughed at something he said or did.

Wonwoo has feelings for his best friend, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Queen Seondeok is the founder of Seoraksan. She's a real historical figure with a K-drama made of her life :) which I have not seen, but everything I've read about her is pretty interesting. Old stories say that she was rumored to have the gift of foresight, because she used to be able to see things like enemies approaching based on stuff she observes like the behavior of frogs and bees and what-not. Which is pretty witch-like, if you ask me ;)   
>  \- There's a lot of exposition dump in this chapter which, my apologies, but the Cheomseongdae is real and still standing and looks pretty cool. Cheomseongdae means "star-gazing tower" in Korean, according to Wikipedia :))  
>  \- Seoraksan was put up during the Silla Period of Korean history, during the last part of Queen Seondeok's reign.  
>  \- [All the parts about the Gemini constellation were lifted word for word from Wikipedia PLEASE DON'T GIVE ME GRIEF FOR IT I WAS TIRED.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gemini_\(constellation\))


	6. Year Six

It’s not the first time a Haechi would represent Seoraksan in the Yut.

That’s what Wonwoo tells himself, over and over. In fact, given their athleticism and predisposition towards having quick reaction times, the likelihood that the choice of representative would be a Haechi was higher than, say, the other Houses.

But why did it have to be _his_ Haechi?

He shifts, uncomfortable with how this particular train of thought is going. 

The Yut was a tradition among the three major South Korean magical institutes that happened every twelve years, held to celebrate the lunar new year and to foster camaraderie and friendly competition between the schools. It was based on the yut nori games of their childhood, except that instead of going through a small malpan, three representatives would have to get through a giant obstacle course with a variety of hurdles, both physical and magical. It was a huge spectacle of skill and luck, and it terrified Wonwoo. 

There were entire generations that didn’t have to go through a Yut, but Wonwoo — despite the nickname he’d jokingly coined for himself — was not a bag of luck this time around because the holding of the Yut happened to fall on his Sixth Year. Even though he hadn’t been personally chosen to represent his school by the faculty, he nonetheless felt the pressure and the worry the moment the golden mulberry tree branches were bestowed on Soonyoung by Samshin at the start of the school year.

Part of the tradition of the Yut was holding a festive gathering over Christmas called the Winter Formal. The Winter Formal was open for the delegates from Odaesan and Bukhansan, as well as Fifth Years onwards from the host school, and it was meant to be a chance to make connections with other witches and wizards. As the reigning champion and host this year, Seoraksan chose to hold the huge party in the Gardens — the sprawling landscape full of flora and fauna that stood between the Makwan and Teacher Park’s greenhouses, where their Herbs and Natural Remedies classes were taught. Teacher Lee’s enchantments helped keep the cold out, and the students were free to mingle and laugh among the Christmas light-laden mulberry trees, underneath the bright night skies. 

He’s sitting forlornly at a table just off the dance floor, the formal versions of their durumagi stiff and digging into his skin. Jihoon’s looking for more food, and Junhui snuck off to the kitchens with some of the Chinese students from Odaesan and Bukhansan, boasting about the way their ddokkaebis made spicy Szechuan stew. Soonyoung’s stuck upstairs, preparing for a grand entrance that all the representatives had to make, so Wonwoo’s left to hold the table, alone with nothing but his thoughts.

“Wonwoo?”

On second thought…

He looks up at the sound of his name, blinking back surprise at the voice. “Hayoung?”

She’s standing at the foot of the table, looking pretty in a deep purple chima and a pale green jeorogi, and carrying two mugs of what smells like hot chocolate. Her hair is swept up into a long plait, and she’s smiling tentatively at Wonwoo. “Hi. I saw you by yourself and, well, I wanted to come over and talk to you for a bit.”

“If that’s okay,” she adds hurriedly, eyes wide.

Wonwoo blinks. Other than polite hellos and waves whenever they bumped into each other in the corridors, they hadn’t really spoken since he’d heard that she and Soonyoung had stopped dating, around this time last year. “Of course.” 

She smiles and gives him one of the mugs in her hand.

Coming to terms with liking his best friend has been a long and arduous process for Wonwoo. It wasn’t so much as liking a guy, since the magical world was far more inclusive than Korean society in general and Wonwoo has seen or heard of several wizards and witches who get together with partners of the same sex and live long and happy lives with them. No, the issue was liking _Soonyoung_ , his best friend, who likely would never see him as more than his best friend.

The second he’d realized that he liked Soonyoung, he started coming up with reasons why it was a terrible idea. First of all, he didn’t even know if Soonyoung swung that way. Despite being his best friend, Hayoung was the first person he’d shown a semblance of a crush on. Second of all, he’s not even sure that Soonyoung is even over Hayoung. Ever since his brief flirtation with the Kyeryong Chaser ended, Soonyoung’d thrown himself into Quidditch, culminating in Haechi winning the title before the end of Spring. He hadn’t shown signs of being interested in seeing anyone again, something that unfortunately pleased Wonwoo. But maybe he just wasn’t paying enough attention, too focused on ignoring the new things he’s started to notice about Soonyoung, like the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nape, the shine of his bottom lip when he worries it between his teeth… it’s a nuisance, is what it is. 

Which brings him to reason number three. Soonyoung is Wonwoo’s person, the one constant in his life that he imagines being in his life for as long as possible. He doesn’t want anything to jeopardize that, especially something as fleeting as romance, as flimsy as attraction.

In summary, it’s very easy to come up with logical, rational reasons to stop liking his best friend. He just wishes he could remember them every time Soonyoung smiles at him.

“Wonwoo?”

He jolts. _Shit. Was she talking to him?_ “Sorry, I was distracted. Um, you were saying?”

Hayoung is sitting daintily in the chair two seats away from him, and Wonwoo coughs, ill at ease. He has no idea what she’d want to talk about with him, but it can’t be about anything other than Soonyoung. 

_Maybe she wants to get back together with him,_ Wonwoo thinks, and immediately his mood plummets.

“I was just asking where everyone else was — other than Soonyoung, I mean,” she says. It’s obvious that she’s also uncomfortable with talking to him, but she seems determined to. Wonwoo wonders why that is.

“Um, well I think Jihoon is off looking for food, but Junhui’s with some new friends he made from the other schools,” he rattles off, neglecting to mention exactly what Junhui’s up to. He has to keep his friend’s reputation in somewhat high esteem, especially to his House juniors. “Were you looking for them too?”

She shakes her head. “No, not really.” She wrings her hands, and Wonwoo wonders when she’s going to get to her point. “You look really nice. That’s a really nice durumagi. Really pretty.”

Self-conscious, Wonwoo straightens in his seat, tugs at his emerald green sleeves. “Thanks.” He smiles wryly. “I guess I’m not used to wearing color outside navy blue anymore.”

She giggles a little at his joke, and he relaxes, just a little. 

“So how do you think we’ll do in the Yut?” Wonwoo asks, trying to make conversation.

Hayoung’s eyes light up. As a Quidditch player and vice-captain of the Kyeryong team, she loved talking strategy. 

They spend a few minutes discussing the other schools. The students from Odaesan were gentle of voice and spirit, but no one took them lightly, as the magic school in Gangwon just to the south of Seoraksan was renowned for teaching its small student population wandless magic, which meant that they would be formidable in the games. On the other hand, students from Bukhansan, the school in the northwest near the country capital and attached to the National Charms Institute, were more mature and cosmopolitan, their curriculum more forward-thinking and reflective of the innovation that drove Seoul into the future. Who knew what they had up their sleeves?

Wonwoo realizes he’s having a good time talking to Hayoung about ten minutes into their conversation. She’s lovely, and animated, and laughs a lot when he makes a wry comment about how he’s spotted a few of the Odaesan students flirting with her Housemates Youngjae and Jinwoo. She reminds him a lot of Soonyoung, actually, and this thought dampens his spirit again.

They really would make a good pair.

“I, uh, I suppose you’re waiting for Soonyoung, then?” Wonwoo asks, tentatively. She hesitates; they’ve avoided mentioning Soonyoung directly the entire time they’ve been talking, but now that Wonwoo brings him up the spectre of him looms over both of them.

“Actually, no, well, technically we’re all waiting for him so that the party can get started, right?” she laughs nervously, and Wonwoo thinks about how awkward this must be for her. “But just to make it clear, Soonyoung and I, we’re friends. We always have been. Nothing more.”

Wait, what?

Wonwoo’s eyebrows knit. “I’m not sure I follow.”

She smiles kindly. “I mean, at first, I was flattered. He’s got this… reputation, you know? Plus, he’s so good on a broom.” 

Wonwoo does not know how to respond to that.

“He asked me out to Sokcho once, and I said sure. But I think after spending some time together we realized that we didn’t really match. He spent most of our ‘date’ pointing out places you two had been to together.”

“But he, you… I don’t understand?”

Hayoung flips her hair back. “Eventually, we decided to be friends because I admitted to him I had feelings for someone else on the team, and he helped me figure things out.”

“So all those late night drills…?”

She blushes, clears her throat guiltily. “He was listening to me vent about Jisun.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen. “Jisun? As in Kyeryong Seeker Jisun?”

She giggles. “Yes.” She turns around and Wonwoo peeks behind her to see the petite, doe-eyed girl sitting three tables away. Hayoung turns to give her a wave, cheeks red as she did so. “I finally got the courage to ask her out for the Winter Formal, and she said yes. It’s all so new, still, but it’s exciting. I’m really happy.”

Wonwoo wraps clammy fingers around the hot chocolate mug, but it’s since long gone cold. “I’m glad for you Hayoung, but why are you telling me all this?”

Hayoung just smiles at him. “My parents told me that the Yut can be dangerous. Please take care of Soonyoung for all of us, Wonwoo.”

She reaches out and pats his hand, before standing up again and going back to her table.

_What am I supposed to think about that?_

“Was that Hayoung?” Jihoon appears from behind him, carrying a bowl of bibimbap and some chopsticks. He sits down in the chair next to Wonwoo, unperturbed that he was just conversing with Soonyoung’s… whatever.

Wonwoo turns to look at him. “Did you know that she and Soonyoung never really dated?”

Jihoon shrugs, before tucking into his bowl of rice. “I think Soonyoung mentioned it while you two were on the outs.”

“And you never thought to tell me this?”

“Why would it matter, Wonwoo?” Jihoon asks him, a faux look of ignorance on his face. Wonwoo wants to throw the napkin at him. “I mean, unless there’s something about it that’s really important.” He starts cackling at Wonwoo’s expense.

Telling Jihoon he may have non-platonic feelings for Soonyoung was the worst decision he ever made in his life.

“Anyway, you should rein it in already. The show’s about to start.”

Just as Jihoon mentions it, the lights dim and the candles flare up, carving a path up the stairs leading back into the Makwan. Wonwoo watches, tense, as the fire cast shadows against the golden pillars, a backdrop fit for the theater of the games. Trumpets and horns sound as the doors open dramatically and the three champions appear.

Jihoon whistles. “Damn, Kwon. What a get up.”

The other two school representatives were witches dressed in sparkling long hanbok dresses, but he can only stare at the lean figure in the center. Soonyoung is dressed head to toe in the deep autumn colors of their school, kohl smeared over his eyelids to emphasize his eyes and a flower crown of fire red peonies with golden stems around his temples. His robe is lighter than everyone else’s, made of a silk-like fabric that billowed out with the wind every time he turned. 

The inside of Wonwoo’s mouth dries up. He looks tall and imposing and noble, like a prince about to ride out into the sunset.

He watches Teacher Kang announce the entrance of the champions, watches them being introduced. Being the host champion, the loudest cheers were reserved for Soonyoung, and Wonwoo hides a smile as he sees Soonyoung ham it up after initially being taken aback, asking for more cheers in an exaggerated manner.

After the pomp and circumstance of it all, Soonyoung finds his way to their table.

“You looked good out there, Soonyoung,” Jihoon tells him coolly, and Soonyoung gives Jihoon’s cheeks a good bussing, narrowly avoiding being clocked in the head.

“Jihoon, you can’t treat the school champion like that,” Soonyoung whines at him, pressing himself against the other. Jihoon swerves, and laughs as he watches Soonyoung almost fall face first into the snow.

“I need better friends,” Soonyoung grumbles, getting up and plopping onto the chair on the other side of Jihoon. “You okay, Wonwoo?”

“Hmm?” Wonwoo looks up, blinking. “I’m fine.” He’s not really fine; he’s thinking about the things Hayoung told him and trying to make sense of them but he keeps getting distracted by the lip gloss on Soonyoung’s lips and how they make his mouth look shiny.

Soonyoung tilts his head at him, gives him a small smile before popping a strawberry into his mouth. “Did you manage to see how I did out there, even with your terrible eyesight?”

Wonwoo wonders if he would taste like strawberries now. “I did. You did-you did okay.”

He stands up, feeling like his limbs are too long for his body, like his robe is too heavy for him to move his feet. “I’m going to go-think I left my-something-be right back.” Wonwoo spins around and looks frantically for a quiet corner he can gather his bearings in, before stalking off towards the greenhouses.

Teacher Park kept his greenhouses neat and tidy for his Herbs and Natural Remedies classes, and if he ever found out that Wonwoo had broken in, he would never be forgiven, despite his teacher’s strange fondness towards him. Still, being teacher’s pet meant that he knew the unlocking charms for the place, and he whispers the words under his breath as soon as he sees the wrought iron door handles. The lock clicks open and he pushes forward with a grunt.

Inside, the air is heady and humid, but the smell of dirt comforts Wonwoo, for some reason. He sinks onto the ground, folding his legs and pulling them against him, sighing as he does so.

This evening is beginning to be a little too much for him.

He jerks when he hears the door of the greenhouse open again, and his heart stutters just a little when he sees who it is. “What are you doing here?” Wonwoo stage whispers. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

“So let them look,” Soonyoung stage whispers back, shrugging. He gets on his knees and crawls towards Wonwoo on the floor; Wonwoo’s trying not to wince at the silk literally being dragged through the mud. “You didn’t look okay and I worried.” He pauses in front of Wonwoo, before folding his legs underneath him to sit in front of him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

At this point, Wonwoo could have made something up, could have mentioned something that was three steps away from the truth and gotten away with it. He knows Soonyoung probably better than anyone else in the world, so he knows that if he chooses to, he could have avoided the elephant in the room completely.

But he’s also incredibly confused and tired and he just wants to lean forward and sink into Soonyoung’s arms, so in a moment of weakness, he takes a deep breath and asks, before courage deserts him: “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Hayoung were never together?”

Soonyoung stills, before he swallows loudly. “How did you find out?”

“Hayoung, we-she spoke to me, earlier…” Wonwoo trails off, looks down at his kneecaps. “I just-I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me. Why did you let me think that you two were dating?”

Wonwoo’s eyes flicker upwards, land on Soonyoung, who looks stricken.

“I don’t know, it just. It felt easier at the time.”

“We fought about it, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says, ire rising as soon as he hears Soonyoung’s response. “How could that have been easier? I wrote all our essays, covered for you and this whole time you weren’t even dating her? What were you doing that whole time—”

“I was talking about you.”

Wonwoo’s heart slams into his chest. All the bravado of earlier is leaking out of Soonyoung like a barrel with a hole. He looks small, like he’s eleven years old again, embarrassed that he’d let a snowball get away from him and shy because a boy knew his name.

“What about me?”

Soonyoung shrugs, refusing to look up. “Like, I don’t know, she was talking about how she felt about Jisun, how she liked it when she smiled, how she listened to everything she said, how every second spent with her made her feel special. And I said that it was, that I’d never felt like that for anyone but that… that the closest thing for me was how I felt every time I was with you.”

The tips of Soonyoung’s ears are burning red now, matching the flowers on the crown on his head, which was knocked askew in his crawl towards Wonwoo. He’s biting his lip and scrunching his nose, probably because he’s trying desperately hard not to cry from humiliation. 

The thing Wonwoo should have done was to tell him that it was no big deal, to laugh it off and close the matter and never talk about it again. Because he’d already decided that having feelings for Soonyoung was a terrible idea. Right? Right. The idea of the two of them having feelings _for each other_? Their friendship would never recover from this. They should just forget this ever happened and go back to the dance.

What Wonwoo does is to stand up again, instead, because running away always seems to be the solution that comes to mind for him first. “You should get back and I should-I’m going to excuse myself.” He makes towards the door, fully intent on using his newly learned chukjibup skills to hightail it all the way to Imugi tower as soon as possible.

What he doesn’t count on is the _Viscum album coloratum_.

“Oh shi—” Wonwoo exclaims in surprise, the vine knotting his and Soonyoung’s wrists together tugging him backwards, crashing right into Soonyoung’s lap. “What the hell?”

A light flickers on and Soonyoung has his wand out, the tip of it bright with a light spell. “I… Where did this vine come from?” He lifts up their joined wrists, shakes it loose as an attempt to get them free, to no avail.

“Teacher Park has a variety of different vines around here; they must have gotten spooked by us coming in here so late,” Wonwoo mutters. He pushes his glasses up his nose and peers closely at the plant. “Crap.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Wonwoo sighs, “It’s mistletoe.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung says. “Oh…”

“I can try to remember the spell to repel the vines, if you give me a second,” Wonwoo says, struggling to sit up from between Soonyoung’s legs, the proximity distracting him from thinking clearly.

“Or we could just… do it the old-fashioned way.”

Wonwoo is about to tell Soonyoung what a terrible idea that is when suddenly Soonyoung lunges forward and determinedly presses his lips to his. 

He inhales, surprised, but his eyes flutter closed and his heart feels like _soaring_. All this time, he’s always thought about romance abstractly — even feeling things for Soonyoung was something he approached in an intellectual manner. Perhaps it was the Imugi in him, but he’d never thought about it like this, never thought about it in terms of touch and taste and feel. 

Every voice in his head yammering at him telling him what a bad idea this was, every hour spent talking him out of liking Soonyoung, they all fade into nothingness when he holds Soonyoung close to him, when he swallows down Soonyoung’s sweet little sigh of delight. Everything he’d ever felt in his life paled in comparison to the feeling of Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung — his mouth sliding against his, his face in his hands, the press of his palms against his chest.

“Soonyoung,” he murmurs against the other’s lips. Wonwoo pulls away, only a little, just to rest his forehead against Soonyoung’s; he presses a chaste kiss or three to Soonyoung’s cheeks. He’d always wanted to do that. “The mistletoe. It’s gone.”

“What?” Soonyoung, eyes a little hazy, picks up his wand that he’d dropped on the floor earlier. “Oh. You’re right.” Sure enough, the vine that had crept up on them earlier had slithered back away, content. “I guess that’s that.”

“Or…” Wonwoo says, before clearing his throat. He’s still mostly on Soonyoung’s lap, pressed so close to him that the orange and red patterned robe Soonyoung’s wearing is tucked close around them. He looks at Soonyoung, and what he sees there makes butterflies swirl inside him. 

Soonyoung likes him. Soonyoung _likes_ him. 

“I could tell you that I like you, Kwon Soonyoung. I really like you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes soften. “I like you too, Jeon Wonwoo. I’ve liked you for a long time now.” He lowers his head, and sniffles adorably.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” Wonwoo tells him; he presses his lips all over Soonyoung’s face urgently, trying to get him to laugh instead. Soonyoung eventually starts to giggle, albeit sounding a little garbled.

“Stop it, Wonw—stop,” Soonyoung says in a whiny voice, interrupting himself with a laugh, and Wonwoo’s heart settles, heavy and full of adoration. “It tickles.”

“Alright, okay, I’ll just…” Wonwoo sits up and pulls Soonyoung into his arms instead. Soonyoung lets out a small laugh, but goes along with it. Wonwoo doesn’t know why it’s taken all this time for him to tell Soonyoung when he could have been kissing him all this time, but there’s no time like the present.

Tomorrow, Soonyoung had to start officially preparing for the Yut, and Wonwoo would be there, helping him map out strategies, helping him learn new chants or charms or spells that would help him bring home the victory for Seoraksan. But, Wonwoo thinks, tonight is not for that. Tonight is for them, for this.

Moonlight streams in through the greenhouse windows, hitting Soonyoung at an angle that makes him look mysterious and enigmatic, but he isn’t a mystery, not to Wonwoo anyway. He knows every nook and cranny of him, and he looks forward to getting to know more of this, the taste of the jut of his lip as Wonwoo takes it between his, the sound of his exhale in the quiet of the night, the feel of his skin as Wonwoo presses the flat of his hand against the small of his back. 

Wizards often wonder if there’s anything that can hold a candle to the feeling of magic, unbridled and pure, coursing through one’s veins. When Soonyoung smiles against his mouth, Wonwoo thinks, ah. It’s this.

It’s this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The Yut is an allusion to the yutnori, a game that Korean families play during Seollal and that the SVT boys played during that one Star Road episode (imagine me freaking out because Soonyoung and Wonwoo were in that group while this was outlined already LOL). It's not talked about much here but maybe one day I'd like to write about the actual Yut that happened in the story - just picture the maze from the Triwizard Cup but on a giant-ass board game in the mountains. Wonwoo was pitching several fits!  
>  \- [Odaesan](http://tong.visitkorea.or.kr/cms/resource/75/1182675_image2_1.jpg) and [Bukhansan](https://www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/Travel/2017/February/never-heard-of-Bukhansan%20National%20Park-AP.jpg?imwidth=450) are also other national parks that are super pretty.  
>  \- Yes, the Winter Formal is a rip-off of the Yule Ball.  
>  \- Teachers in this fic - very loosely described but Teacher Kang is definitely Kang Hodong in my head, and Teacher Lee is Lee Jaesuk. Everyone else may or may not be whoever you think they are!  
>  \- Peonies are the school's symbol, because Queen Seondeok was closely associated with them.  
>  \- Soonyoung's robe here looks a lot like [this one.](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/ec/0b/a5/ec0ba5a1127f81554e67f100e7bcca95.jpg)  
>  \- _Viscum album coloratum_ is the scientific name for Korean mistletoe.


	7. Year Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about upping the rating with this chapter, so be warned for that!

“Shhhh, be quiet—” 

“Don’t ‘shhhh’ me, Jeon Wonwoo, I do—oh shit—”

Wonwoo stifles a giggle into the side of Soonyoung’s neck as the other stumbles over a few loose stones on the ground, nearly faceplanting into the snow. He has an arm around Soonyoung’s waist and a hand around the wrist of the arm slung over his shoulders, so he manages to catch him before he does, but it’s a close call. 

They’re both doing their best to walk without falling over. However, they’re both just a touch tipsy from Christmas dinner, what with Changkyun and Jinwoo sneaking a bottle of soju past the faculty and spiking the drinks of most of the Seventh Years in an attempt to loosen them up for preparing for the Magical Suneung.

After successfully getting Youngjae and Changgu down from the tabletops, Soonyoung and Wonwoo finally call it a night and usher out the rest of the Seventh Years from the Hall of Worthies, hoping that the cleaning spirit that Jihoon had summoned just before he said good night would do the honors for them. They’d seen off the rest of the students before making their way down the path to the little cottage just off the Makwan that the Student Representative of the Seoraksan gets to stay in for the rest of the year on account of him or her having to be available to the whole student population rather than just their own House’s. As Soonyoung had been voted into the position of Student Representative at the end of their Sixth Year, he’d moved into the cottage when they all returned for school in September for their final year, but that didn’t necessarily mean he had to stay there alone.

(Wonwoo gets a lot of flack for spending more time in the cottage than in his own dormitory, so he makes it a point to limit nights spent there to only two a week, but whenever he wakes up earlier than Soonyoung and notices, even before opening his eyes, arms resting securely around his waist, a cheek pressed against the back of his head, the sound of Soonyoung’s shallow breathing, he wonders why the opinion of the rest of the world even matters.)

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, voice hushed and whispered into the tiny space that existed just between the two of them. Soonyoung hums lazily, before wrapping both arms around Wonwoo’s waist.

“Wonwoo, please tell me we’re almost there, because I really, really want to...” Soonyoung trails off before pressing a wet kiss to a spot in the gap between Wonwoo’s jaw and the top of his turtleneck sweater. Wonwoo’s breath hitches, and the familiar heat that comes with having to deal with Soonyoung on a normal every day basis with the knowledge of what he’s like behind closed doors creeps up Wonwoo’s spine.

“Soonyoung, there could be—people could se—ah!” A shaky gasp rattles out of Wonwoo when Soonyoung’s hand sneaks under his ugly Christmas sweater, gifted to him by Junhui that afternoon, to rub against his side, fingers flirting with the edges of his waistband innocently.

They collapse against the wooden door after what seems like forever, arms snaking around each other to press their lips together, the heat thrumming underneath their skin rendering them impervious to the cold. Wonwoo swallows Soonyoung’s tiny little moans and presses him against the frame, just a little desperate to taste more, to feel more. He nips at his pouting bottom lip, swipes his tongue impatiently against resistance until its met with Soonyoung’s own.

“Bed, bed, bed,” Soonyoung murmurs insistently against Wonwoo’s mouth, and he pulls away only to pull out his wand and whisper the incantation to unlock the door and let them in.

As soon as the door shuts and they’re inside, Wonwoo’s fingers are scrambling to find the hem of Soonyoung’s sweater so that he can pull it off him while his feet are toeing off his own sneakers. Soonyoung, still in a state of inebriation, is giggling desperately, high-pitched and sweet and Wonwoo’s chest expands with fondness and want and he doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel so much for one person but apparently it’s not impossible because here he is, current state of being as living proof.

Soonyoung’s lips are puffy from being kissed and his eyes are half-lidded slits because of all the food and alcohol he had consumed but when he lifts his arms up so Wonwoo can pull his sweater off of him, he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He stops and stares, long enough that Soonyoung starts to pout, his features only illuminated by the soft moonlight trickling in through his window. “What are you doing, Wonwoo?” he asks him.

Wonwoo’s childhood was one that was characterized by a lot of motion and not many roots. He was quiet and shy and didn’t make a lot of friends, and when he tried to make friends, they weren’t always the good kind. But girls would always notice him, would always comment on how nice his hair was, or that he looked handsome when he smiled. That didn’t change when he finally found the stability at Seoraksan that he’d been craving for growing up — he’d started getting confessions in his Fourth Year and that continued through the seasons until it became clear to everyone that he and Soonyoung were dating. He’d thought nothing of all these letters from girls (and some guys) telling him that they had feelings for him, carefully keeping them tucked away in a drawer by his bed — he’d always thought that there would be time for that after he graduated, when he had a job and his own place and everything. Sure, he had his own ‘private time’ in his dorm room, like his other friends did (as nerdy as it sounded, the Imugi boys made up a timetable for these times that they all promised to adhere to — no bathroom on the school ground had probably ever witnessed such scheduled releases), but he always attributed that to hormones more than anything else.

Becoming aware of his feelings for Soonyoung had the side effect of suddenly and painfully becoming aware of how attractive he found the other. When before he used to imagine faceless girls and play random scenarios in his head to get himself off, now his head would be filled with images of Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung — the way his thighs looked in his trousers, the soft slopes of his shoulders, the color of his mouth. After he had started fantasizing about Soonyoung, Wonwoo would look at Soonyoung at random times during the day and all of a sudden his eyes would cut away, ashamed, because the images of Soonyoung in various compromising positions from the previous nights when he took care of himself would overwhelm him.

And after they finally got together, after Wonwoo had express permission to taste and touch Soonyoung every chance he got? Everything inside him magnified and amplified ten times, because now he _knew_ — the feeling of Soonyoung’s bare skin against his, the slide of Soonyoung’s mouth over his body, the way he sounded when Wonwoo pressed against him, the look in his eyes when he let go. 

It didn’t start out perfect. Only the spirits bore witness to the times Wonwoo ended up on his backside on the floor, the many instances when something would go up or down the wrong way and they ended up nearly hacking out a lung, but they discovered each other together, and after a year, Wonwoo marvels at Soonyoung’s ability to drive him to the brink of his sanity, only to pull him back with only his arms, his mouth, his tongue.

“You take my breath away,” Wonwoo tells Soonyoung his simple straightforward truth, because he’s slightly drunk and not inclined to mince any words. 

Red sprinkles itself across Soonyoung’s cheeks. “You’re just saying that to get into my pants. When will you stop talking and do more… doing,” he jokes, a bubble of laughter escaping him.

Wonwoo is hopelessly endeared. He’s about to pull Soonyoung towards him when his eyes trail down his bare torso, landing on the light scar that ran diagonally from under Soonyoung’s left ribcage until his bellybutton. He kneels almost reverently, transfixed, in front of him, and presses a soft kiss against the scar tissue.

(He doesn’t think he will ever get over the way he felt during last year’s Yut when he watched an enchanted bul-gae dog snarl and swing at Soonyoung, one vicious-looking claw nearly slicing Soonyoung open. He’d managed to step back in time, so the wound wasn’t fatal, but it hurt every fiber of Wonwoo’s being having to watch him struggle through the rest of the rounds until he managed to get a throw that granted him a little medicinal relief. Soonyoung fought all the way to the end and finished a close second, but Wonwoo was just relieved he made it to the end alive, running as fast as his legs could possibly travel to catch Soonyoung as he crawled over the finish line.

Their relationship, which they’d both agreed to keep under wraps until graduation, was also spontaneously revealed when they very dramatically kissed in front of the whole school plus two whole other academic delegations, but that’s a story for another time.) 

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung says; Wonwoo feels his fingers card through his hair, reassuring and constant. “I’m okay. I’m right here.” He lifts his eyes and catches Soonyoung’s expression — it's slightly exasperated, but understanding. He knows what Wonwoo went through; they’ve talked about it at length, both of them. “I’m with you.”

Wonwoo stands; the fire from earlier has died down to a slow simmer, the air no longer crackling with urgency but hushed, as if waiting. Soonyoung looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, chin slightly tilting to make up for their height difference, waiting patiently. He bites his lip, arresting his slow exhale when Wonwoo reaches down and lifts his own sweater up and over his head. Soonyoung smiles as he watches Wonwoo toss away his sweater, the long waves of his soft curls floating gently around his face as they settle after being dislodged. He steps forward and removes Wonwoo’s glasses for him, and even though Wonwoo’s vision blurs, Soonyoung’s adoration for him is still clear as day, something that humbles him, that strengthens him.

“Wonw—” Soonyoung cuts off, smiling, when Wonwoo peppers soft insistent kisses all over his face. “Wonwoo, let’s go to b—”

Wonwoo interrupts him again, taking Soonyoung’s face in both his hands and pressing his mouth to his, angling his head so that he could kiss him deeper. He could kiss Soonyoung all day, could do it enough to make it a profession. He’s never thought about kissing much before, but now kissing Soonyoung is all he wants to do, what with the way he pouts against Wonwoo’s mouth, making him want to bite and nibble, what with the way he tastes, like strawberries and cream, what with the way he sounds when he whimpers and presses himself even closer to Wonwoo, like heaven and sin, all in one.

Wonwoo is a weak, weak man, and he’s never had much resolve, especially against Soonyoung.

Enthralled, Wonwoo releases Soonyoung’s face, his wide hands running down Soonyoung’s neck and his collarbones, trailing lightly down his sides, raising goosebumps in his wake. His kisses turn slow, his tongue lazily tangling with Soonyoung’s, the sound of their lips sliding and smacking against each other mirroring the aborted little moans they’re making to each other. Wonwoo’s palms knit together and secure themselves at the small of Soonyoung’s back to pull him forward, flush and pliant against him. He revels in the way Soonyoung’s muscles flex under his fingertips, is constantly amazed at the strength and generosity of his whole being. He has never met anyone like him, and he doubts he ever will again.

Soonyoung makes a soft, needy sound, and it’s all Wonwoo can do not to drag him down to the floor, take him into his mouth and make him see stars. He grunts, restraining himself, and pulls him towards the center of the room instead, so that he can do what he wants with the comfort of a bed underneath him.

Soonyoung grins, giddy, when Wonwoo playfully pushes him onto the bed — he bounces once on the soft goosefeather mattress, before he sinks into the fluff, using his elbows to move backwards and urging Wonwoo to follow him. Wonwoo does. Inebriation has gone out the window, leaving just the buzz of want cushioning his brain. He takes his wand out of his trousers, and points to the fireplace opposite them. “Bul,” he whispers, and the fire in the hearth roars to life before subsiding into a smaller flame.

Nothing, not even the Seoraksan at its most mystical, mysterious best, could compare to the picture of Soonyoung like this, soft and lovely and perfect and his.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and Soonyoung’s blush deepens, before he uses his legs to tug Wonwoo closer, neck already lifting so Wonwoo could kiss him some more.

“Stop talking, Wonwoo, and kiss me.”

And Wonwoo does.

Later, when they’re both spent and sated, they pull the quilts off Soonyoung’s bed and sit in front of the fire with their limbs tangled together. The air is quiet, but comfortable, and they sit in quiet contemplation of the sounds of the crickets and the birds and the forest settling down for slumber.

Soonyoung cradles the mug of hot chocolate in his palms, which he had made for both of them as their activities tend to make them both thirsty, and leans against Wonwoo’s broader frame. The mug is a gift from Wonwoo from a few years back, a leopard-printed mug that Wonwoo had mistaken for tiger’s stripes. Soonyoung had teased him mercilessly about it but it’s one of his dearest possessions, and sits proudly on his desk wherever he goes. He takes a good swallow, before lifting the mug up to Wonwoo’s mouth for him to take his own sip, which he does.

“How are you doing with the studying for Suneung?” Soonyoung asks him. “Did you complete the coverage you wanted to finish today?”

Wonwoo pushes the bridge of his glasses up his nose before nodding thoughtfully. “I did. I’m almost done with my second read through of my papers for Talismans, but I’d like to maybe go through a couple of them again before I move on.” He hooks his chin over Soonyoung’s shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to the base of Soonyoung’s neck. “And what about you?”

Soonyoung shrugs, tugging Wonwoo’s arms tighter around him before answering. “I feel like I should be reading something else for Chants, but this is the recommended material, and I’d hate to have to start over.”

“Do you want to go through it together this break?” Wonwoo offers thoughtfully. Soonyoung stops and mulls it over, before nodding slowly.

“I’d like that.”

“Okay, then we will,” Wonwoo affirms. He takes another swig from their shared hot chocolate, making loud smacking noises to make Soonyoung laugh.

“Is it good?”

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo says, pretending to think for awhile, and he chuckles as Soonyoung shoves an elbow into his gut. He plucks the mug from Soonyoung’s hands and places it on the table before Soonyoung drops it into their laps. It’s not the first time it would happen, and Wonwoo would rather avoid a trip to the Healing Ward on Christmas Day if he could help it.

Soonyoung doesn’t mind though, watching Wonwoo tuck the quilts around them even tighter. “It’s our first Christmas together,” he points out to Wonwoo, voice stilted with sleepiness. “As boyfriends.”

The word still made Wonwoo feel stupidly happy. 

(Maybe one day another set of words could trump this one, something that Wonwoo doesn’t dare to voice out just yet, but it’s hard not to — he can’t imagine having a future without Soonyoung in it, can’t imagine not being with Soonyoung for the rest of his life.

They haven’t said anything concrete yet, but Wonwoo knows he loves Soonyoung, knows that Soonyoung feels the same. They’re both just waiting for the right moment, the perfect moment, to say it. They’re also unknowingly playing a game of waiting to see who would say it first, but it’s a silly and futile one — they both know Soonyoung’s going to say it first.)

“Is it? We confessed to each other at Christmas last year, so isn’t this our second Christmas together?”

“Idiot,” Soonyoung grouses, and Wonwoo laughs at the soft way he does it. “We weren’t together yet then. We just kissed.”

“Ah, just kissed. Newly-confessed to kissing, that’s all we did,” Wonwoo muses. He holds Soonyoung’s chin in his right hand so that he could kiss Soonyoung’s pout away easier. “No labels yet, just kissers.”

“I didn’t see you complaining when we tried to talk about what we were the day after the Winter Formal and ended up making out in that broom closet,” Soonyoung retorts, and Wonwoo bites back a laugh. Wonwoo definitely did not complain about that. He remembers that broom closet quite fondly, actually — it’s been awhile since they needed to use it, since they could just have private time in Soonyoung’s cottage.

“I had no reason to complain when you were in my lap, right where I wanted you,” Wonwoo says smugly, causing Soonyoung to scoff.

“You are such an Imugi,” Soonyoung tells him. Wonwoo crinkles his nose at that, and Soonyoung is forced to turn around in his embrace, maneuvering until Wonwoo is leaning against the bedframe, gazing up into Soonyoung’s smirk. “Always scheming and planning. Two can play that game.”

“Maybe that’s why you were Invited to be an Imugi,” Wonwoo muses. He runs his hands up and down Soonyoung’s sides, watching with interest as Soonyoung’s expression melts into something akin to that of a purring cat. “Because of your wiles.”

Soonyoung lowers his head, presses a soft kiss to Wonwoo’s mouth. “Despite popular opinion, I do like to use my brain a lot.” He pulls away and winks at Wonwoo. “If we were Housemates, do you think we would have ended up like this?”

“Yes,” Wonwoo says almost instantly; curious, Soonyoung sits up and tilts his head, waiting for him to continue. “One way or another, I would have ended up drawn to you, Kwon Soonyoung. Jeon and Kwon. You and me.” He gives Soonyoung a shy smile. “There are many things I don’t believe in, and many days I don’t believe in myself, but I believe in magic, and fate, and forces that work in mysterious ways.”

“You, Kwon Soonyoung, are my person. You were always meant to be my person.”

It’s true; there are many days Wonwoo doesn’t believe in himself. He also knows there are plenty of days when Soonyoung doesn’t quite trust himself either. There’s still the overwhelming feeling of having to live up to something. Wonwoo’s told Soonyoung that he has nothing to prove, that maybe he was the school’s golden boy not because of something he had to do in some grand foreseeable future, but because of who he was — a good wizard. 

Some days Soonyoung believed him, some days he didn’t. But that was what Wonwoo was there for — he was there to believe in Soonyoung when he didn’t believe in himself, the way Soonyoung constantly reassured him that his past did not define him as a person.

(Wonwoo thinks that he wouldn’t be half the person he is now without Soonyoung. If he were fairer to himself, he’d also know that Soonyoung thought the same of him.)

That was them. This was them. Young, flawed, imperfect. 

But wholly incredibly their own.

“You softie. You’re mine, too.” Wonwoo can see tears well up in Soonyoung’s eyes, but he himself is a little too choked up to tease him about it more. 

“I’m really glad I hit you with a snowball that day.”

Wonwoo chuckles, blinking back the tingly feeling beneath his eyelids, before reaching up and pulling Soonyoung’s mouth to his. “Me too,” he whispers.

He feels Soonyoung’s mouth open underneath his, and they share a breath together, before they disappear under the quilts for the second time that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Instead of a Head Boy and Head Girl, there's just one Student Representative. He/she gets a little cottage by the Makwan for his/her duties. The cottage is super cute and tiny -- there's only one whole room and there's a little kitchen where Soonyoung has made lots of mugs of hot chocolate, which is just what my recipient asked for. Honestly, the whole story boiled down to this scene of them sharing hot chocolate, lol.  
> \- Hanky-panky in the cottage: The cottage has seen many many MANY things, but the school officials look the other way (the Healing Ward witch has taught them all about contraceptive spells, yk) as long as the Student Representative manages to do what he/she needs to do.  
> \- I really do want to do a whole different story for the Yut!  
> \- I think 'bul' is the only spoken spell/enchantment in the whole story! It means 'fire'.  
> \- The bul-gae are mythical dogs who take a bite out of the sun and the moon for their respective eclipses.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has questions about Seoraksan!verse headcanons, I can get back to you in the comments when reveals are over! Also tell me your Seoraksan House sorting in the comments :D


End file.
